Guten Tag Professor Williams
by ratsister
Summary: Mathew the history professor, Gilbert the bartender. 1921. Drabble for GreyPezzola. More detailed summery inside. Related to main fic: Its Just Business. Pru/Can AU human names used, rated T for some fun.


_This is a Pru/Can drabble for Grey Pezzola! I hope you like it, Grey! _

_This is like a...um..'well if it hadn't been for the events of chapter 16 that change things a bit for the future' this is what would've happened come Spring. Its an AU AU. lol._

_**Now that I have THOROUGHLY confused anyone who isn't reading my Mafiatalia fic Its Just Business, …. Read this as a super fast background: **__Mathew Williams is a history professor who visits his brother the federal agent stationed in Chicago (to combat the mafia, run by a certain baby faced Italian) when he runs into Gilbert the irresistible bartender of an underground speakeasy, and well, all sorts of complications arise, but mainly they fall in love. Its Just business is set in 1920. You can read all about it on my profile. Its GerIta main, PruCan, RusAme side_

**University of Toronto**

**Spring 1921**

The crimson eyed man trailed his pale finger along the names listed on the board; gold letters on the wall spelling out professors, their subjects and offices. A mischievous grin lit his face as the digit stopped on Mathew Williams, History. Rm. 207.

Gilbert whistled as he strolled down the hall, and up the stairs. He took off his coat, draping it purposefully in the crook of his arm, careful no to disturb the tiny yellow bird nestled in one of the pockets.

Running a hand through hair the color of snow, he looked to his reflection in the wide glass windows he passed. _Awesome._

The stairwell had clearly taken him to the opposite end of the floor; the nearest room was number 240. The tune he whistled intensified with his good spirits as Gilbert watched the numbers count down.

Just as he was about to turn the corner where the arrow pointed toward rooms 200-215, a familiar voice floated across the hall to his ears.

From room 217 came words in the soft, yet sure voice he loved, a voice it had been too long since he had heard. The words thrilled him further as his Mathew lectured.

"The three Selesian wars are commonly spoken of as being grouped together with other, more general wars of the time in Europe. Who can tell me which of the Selesian wars is grouped with the war of Austrian Succession, and which is grouped with the Seven Years war?"

There was no way he was going to wait and let a student answer. Not when Matt had given him such an awesome entrance.

Opening the door with a flourish, Gilbert stepped confidently into the classroom. Leaning back on the open door with practiced nonchalance, the crimson eyed man lifted two white eyebrows, and grinned widely, "Ja, I can. The first two are part of the war of Austrian Succession, the last ist part of the Seven Years war."

Stunned, the young Professor stared for a moment, unable to decide how to explain this sudden event that was the wild man he'd fallen so hard for over the last winter, unexpectedly showing up in his class. He stared unblinking for a few moments; moments that seemed to stretch into eternity as Mathew was only able to focus on his foriegn love's lips and how they had come together around the w's in an almost suggestive way.

As Gil winked one deep red eye, Matt knew he'd made sure to pronounce those w's purposefully.

Finally clearing his throat, the professor turned back to his class. "I'd like to introduce my...friend, Gilbert Beilschmidt. He's come up from Chicago where he runs a, um, nightclub." Still smiling, the pale man strode over to join the flustered blonde at the front of the room.

Sparing the tiniest of glances toward the other man, Mathew went on, ever the professional. "But before he moved to Chicago, Gilbert lived in Berlin. Which as you know, unless you were born yesterday, was, until recently, the capitol of Prussia and the German Empire; now the capitol of the Wiemar republic."

Blue-violet eyes glanced toward shocking red, as Proffessor Williams cleared his throat again. "Um, and I'll let him talk to you in just a moment about that. Remember class, er, international relations are very important, and vital to both history and the present. Lets put the war behind us, eh?"

Placing one hand at the white haired German's back, the Canadian began to walk them both toward the door. Looking over his shoulder, Mathew continued addressing his class. "While we step out for a moment, I uh, want you to form teams of three and come up with good questions for...um, our guest."

As soon as the door was closed behind him, Mathew found his back pressed against the hallway wall. Warm breath at his neck accompanied low spoken words as one man kissed along the other's exposed flesh, "I've missed you, mein Liebe."

Gasping, Mathew slid from his lover's grasp. "Gil!" breathlessly the young professor looked down the hall both right and left, "Not here, I'll lose my job!"

Crimson eyes gleaming mischievously, the pale German pouted. "But I need you Liebling!"

"Ssh!" The Canadian brought a finger to his lips as a rosy blush stole across his face. "Not here." Mathew repeated, and the blush growing redder and redder across his cheeks, the blonde led his pale haired sweetheart quickly down the hall.

Their footsteps raced like schoolboys skipping class and together they reached the door to Matt's office. Gilbert had meant what he'd said, and disregarding his man's breathless comments of "_You're crazy!" "What are you doing?" "Good lord!" _ He kept hooded red eyes locked onto blue while loosening his beloved Canadian's tie.

As soon as Mathews's fumbling fingers had managed to turn the knob and open the door to his office, the couple stumbled backwards into the cosy space dominated by one large desk and stacks upon stacks of books.

The affects on the quiet history professor's desk rattled, as both men bumped into it. Pencils clattered to the floor, papers scattered from thier neat stacks, the graded mingling with the yet to be read. Mathew found he was quickly losing control of the situation. He was at work afterall; he had worked far too hard to get where he was at his relatively young age of 20. He would have to do...do...something...

But the professor's thoughts drifted away from him, slipping from his mind to be replaced with soft, warm lips and an exploratory tongue that wound its way past his defenses to happily greet his own.

Returning the kiss with equal passion, the outwardly shy Canadian wound his fingers through pale white hair, closing his eyes, he gave in to the sensation of his German love's lips on his own. It was a feeling he hadn't felt in too long a time; one that reminded him of cold windy nights in Chicago where his brother lived, where he had stumbled into Gil's speakeasy, where his life had been changed forever.

Their lips never breaking contact, hands roamed under jackets and beneath suspenders, into the back of slacks. The couple held onto eachother, blood racing through each man's veins, feuling desire. Gilbert pressed his Canadian man closer against the desk.

Tiny moans and whispered gasps escaped both men's throats; Mathew was sure it was only his lips that kept his wild lover quiet, and though his heart raced in his chest furiously, the young professor knew where he was, and what would and would certainly, sadly, not be acceptable

.More than content to lock lips, and hold his love close, Mathew knew he had to draw the line when he felt Gilbert began to unfasten the buttons of his fly and lift him up onto the desk.

Sliding from the cool wood of his desk, Mathew only scooted closer against his unconventional German man, causing Gilbert to nearly growl as he continued his attempt.

"No, we can't...I'll get fired!" Mathew whispered, pushing his love back reluctantly. When Gilbert answered with only a grin, Matt knew he had to be serious. "My students are waiting!" When all he got back in return was a shrug and a few playful nips to his chest, Mathew took hold of his love's shoulders and looking him straight in deep red eyes, the shy man spoke matter of factly, "Nien."

Seeing the mutinous heartbroken expression now turned toward him, Mathew sighed. "Not now, not _here_, love." Straightening his tie, the professor reached once more into the bartender's snow white hair, "But, liebe, this is my last class of the day."

Brightening, the bartender managed to tamp down on the wild beast in his heart that roared out for his sweet, shy, and secretly aggressive Canadian man; Gilbert would never forget Matt's reactions at that hockey game afterall; But he could wait, he told himself, he could wait.

"Alright, Herzlein..." Gilbert took his love by the chin and left one last kiss, "Lets go finish this class of yours so you can give me that velcome I know you have been vanting to give me."

_The end~_

_I hope ya liked it Grey Pezzola 3_

_German translated:_

_Liebe: Love_

_Liebling: favorite, like term of endearment_

_Herzlein: little heart, my heart, that sort of thing_

_Bitte, you know I just hunger for your thoughts all who may read this~~ and danke for your time!_


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